


Puking Lessons

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Series: Bathroom Division [1]
Category: Bandom, Eminem (Musician), Music RPF, My Chemical Romance, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, RPF, Recreational Drug Use, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: Gerard gets caught puking in a public bathroom.





	Puking Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> The Eminem song "Puke" came out the year this fic takes place (2004)

No matter what everyone else says, Gerard always feels better right after puking. He swallows the sour taste in his mouth, bracing himself for his brother or another bandmate with some big intervention. The encroaching footfalls come to a grinding halt outside the bathroom stall; Gerard eyes the checkmark emblazoned on the spotless white sneakers and bites his tongue. 

“Ay, yo!” A heavy fist punctuates each shout against the shaky door. “You okay in there?”

The voice is familiar, but not so recognizable he can immediately place it. Gerard considers a couple options and settles on not responding. The lock rattles with each consecutive slam, and on the next yell it swings open to reveal the only white rapper Gerard could possibly name on sight.

“Slim Shady,” he says, uncurling his arms from around his stomach. He wipes his mouth on his black shirtsleeve and coughs. “It’s not what you think,” he says, gaze crawling up from the floor. He brushes past Eminem in a rush to reach the sink and get a look at himself in the mirror.

“Wow,” Eminem says when he finally notices the contents of the toilet bowl. It resembles an overpriced expressionist art painting; there’s a little blood. “That’s fucked up,” he says with a dry laugh. “At least flush, damn.”

Gerard accidentally smiles at his own reflection. At least all the crying didn’t make his mascara run; he buys the good shit now.

Eminem shoves his hands in his pockets and leans casually against the exit. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says. “If you gotta hurl, do it right.” A moment passes where Gerard still thinks there’s a chance he’ll leave. Then he says “What’d you take?” 

There’s an implicit suggestion that he’s already high on something. Gerard just drank too much, and hasn’t eaten anything more than a bag of chips since before the party. At least, that’s the lie he’s holding onto.

“I’m gonna puke,” he warns. 

Nobody moves while the overhead light flickers. “That’s the point.” 

Gerard hunches his shoulders. “Do you even know who I am?”

Eminem glances sideways and runs a hand along the bleached hair buzzed close to his neck. “I know you’re that one emo kid from that one boy band.”

“Nice.” Gerard turns back to the mirror and cranks the faucet. His nail polish is chipped but he can’t remember if it’s on purpose. “You know the term emo?”

“I know you’re the main one!” Eminem nods, gaze searing through the glass. “The singer, right?”

“Gerard,” he admits, trying to stifle a shudder. “From My Chemical Romance.”

“Yeah,” Eminem says, easy. “I’ve heard of you.”

Gerard rolls his eyes and ends up gripping the sides of the sink until his fingertips are white. Bile rises in his throat, burning his esophagus when he bows his head close to the drain. Through the ringing in his ears, he hears the lock on the door sliding shut.

“I don’t even do this shit for chicks,” Eminem says, cinching Gerard’s oily hair in his hand. “You can ask Dre,” he says, before amending it. “Hell, ask Kim.” 

Gerard isn’t going to ask anyone, all he wants is to finish emptying the contents of his stomach without someone watching. Eminem pats his back like he’s soothing a little kid when Gerard finally crosses the line into dry heaving. He coughs and runs his mouth under the stream of water.

“Feels better, right?” Eminem grabs his wrist, calloused fingers overlapping around the thin bone. His eyebrows jump to the top of his forehead. “Damn, whadda you a vegan or somethin’?”

Gerard stares at the pill in his palm. 

“It’s molly,” Eminem supplies with a shrug. “Gerald, look...” Eminem raises an eyebrow at his scowl. “Your makeup is like, better than a girl’s, okay? And you’re like, the lead singer of a band and shit. You don’t gotta puke your guts out to get laid.”

“Thanks?” Gerard cocks his head and Eminem flips him the bird before slipping out the door.

Ten seconds scarcely pass before he swallows it under the spray from the spigot.


End file.
